


soaring still above your head

by belikebumblebee



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 06:56:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12316044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belikebumblebee/pseuds/belikebumblebee
Summary: Somewhere around Revelstoke it started to rain, and the wipers are working quietly to keep Waverly's vision clear. The steering wheel feels smooth and hard under her fingers; dependable and familiar. With every passing meter she is further from home than she’s ever been, and if there used to be something tethering her to Purgatory, that band has loosened; become more elastic; is stretching easily and letting her go.Seven people, and seven hundred and seventy miles to go.





	soaring still above your head

**Author's Note:**

> With many thanks to @TheGaySmurf, because I might not have posted this at all without her help. :)

Waverly bought the Jeep herself when she was twenty. Months and months of saving tips plus Gus’s and Curtis’s birthday present had finally amounted to enough money, and she let Champ drive her to the car dealership in Calgary. On their way there, Champ asked her three times if she was  _ sure _ she didn’t want something smaller, but her mind had been made.

Driving along the BC-1 now, it still feels perfect: heavy, high above the road, and completely hers.

Somewhere around Revelstoke it started to rain, and the wipers are working quietly to keep her vision clear. The steering wheel feels smooth and hard under her fingers; dependable and familiar.

With every passing meter she is further from home than she’s ever been, and if there used to be something tethering her to Purgatory, that band has loosened; become more elastic; is stretching easily and letting her go.

Beside her, Nicole has folded her long legs up on the passenger seat and her face is turned toward Jeremy, who is leaning in from the backseat.

“Clubs,” she says smugly, carefully placing a card from her hand on the pile on the center console.

“Oh, my god, how many eights do you  _ have _ ?” Jeremy mutters, and draws.

“You don’t wanna know.”

It’s almost dark; soon they’ll have to depend on the intermittent light of the streetlamps to keep playing. Waverly glances at the rearview mirror, and frowns at the empty road.

She flinches when there’s suddenly a honk from her left and Xavier’s black SUV appears on the opposite lane like a gigantic ship. She can hear AC/DC blasting through their open windows, and Rosita is waving at them from the backseat.

“You’re so slow!” Wynonna yells as soon as Waverly rolls down her window, too. Rain sprays into the car. “I’ll give you a bumper sticker that says  _ Gridlock Initiator _ for Christmas!”

Waverly just raises her eyebrows.

“Guys, hold on to your cards,” she says, and then she can hear a faint squeal of surprise and snorting laughter fading away behind her as she puts her foot down on the gas pedal.

In the mirror, she can see Wynonna swerve back into their own lane behind her, flashing her hazard lights wildly and flipping her off.

 

*

 

They stop at a small A&W attached to a Petro Canada.

Above them, the sky has turned a purplish shade of dark blue, and Waverly shudders in the cool night air. Dolls is already filling up the tank of his SUV, one hand in his pocket, watching the numbers rise on the display of the gas pump. A few feet away, Wynonna is stretching so hard she’s on her tip-toes; Rosita pokes her in the side and Wynonna curses, almost toppling over. Doc watches them bicker with a fond smirk curling around his cigarillo.

“Hey, guys,” Jeremy greets as the three of them approach the group. “God, I’m so tired of being in a car already, and we’re not even there yet. I just have all this pent up energy. Hey Doc, can I have one of those, too?”

Doc inhales slowly and deeply, then takes the cigarillo between thumb and index finger to point it at Jeremy. “Smoking is a bad and unhealthy habit, Jeremy. You should stay away from it.” As he speaks, smoke is welling heavily from his mouth and gathering under the brim of his hat; they can barely see his face for a moment.

Jeremy opens his mouth to protest, but Rosita is quicker. “That’s a good point, Doc,” she says, and plucks the cigarillo out of his hands before he can react. She stoops down to put it out on the sidewalk. Dusting off her hands, she leans into him and grins broadly. “You should, too, considering you’re no longer immortal.”

Doc furrows his brow and puts his hands on his hips. “And for that I am to be  _ punished _ ?”

“I’m doing you a  _ favor _ . Do you want me to explain to you what smoking does to your—“

With a soft snort, Nicole winds an arm around Waverly’s shoulders. Waverly huddles against her as she lets Nicole lead her towards the fast food restaurant, where warm light is spilling out from the windows onto the parking lot.

Wynonna jogs to catch up with them. “Whenever you’re done bickering,” she calls over her shoulder, “feel free to join us and the four servings of onion rings I’m planning on ordering for myself!”

Spread out over two tables, passing ketchup and salt over the backs of their booths, they have dinner, and Waverly watches as Wynonna catches a fry with her teeth when Nicole throws it at her (Jeremy and Rosita both cheer.)

In all these years, she can’t remember if they’ve ever had time to have a meal with all of them together.

 

*

 

Nicole finds Rosita leaned up against the SUV, sipping an energy drink, scrolling through her phone.

“Hey,” she says, joining her.

Rosita looks up and smiles. “Hi.” She waves her phone a little. “We should leave soon. If we’re lucky, we can catch the night ferry at three.”

“There’s a night ferry to Nanaimo?” Nicole asks incredulously.

“Yep. Thanks to…” Rosita consults her phone again. “…the 150 Years Canada Celebration at the Lighthouse Park, from which people have to get home somehow.”

“Sounds like a fun party. Maybe we should drop by.”

“Well, we sure  _ deserve _ a party...”

Nicole laughs at that, short and too bright, but it feels good.

She lowers her voice. “Hey… how are they holding up?”

For a moment, Rosita says nothing, just takes a sip and rolls her lips. Together, they look over to where Doc and Xavier are deep in conversation. As they speak, they both pretend not to notice Wynonna, who is snuggling into Xavier’s chest and trying to close up his jacket around her.

“They’re pointedly not talking about any of it.”

Absently, she offers Nicole the rest of her energy drink, which she takes with a nod. “So, as expected.”

“Yep.”

Jeremy emerges from the A&W with a large coffee to go in his hands. Waverly follows him, her face now clear of makeup and her hair loose. (She smiles when she notices Nicole looking; that shy, sweet smile that would still have Nicole smiling back if she was covered in fire ants or in the middle of a fist fight.)

“Time to roll out,” Rosita says next to her. “You up next, too?”

Nicole shakes her head. “Jeremy.”

“Alright.” With a squeeze of her elbow, Rosita heads off, and Nicole watches her go with a sigh.

The energy drink tastes like late nights and dissolved sour candy.

_ Pointedly not talking about any of it. _

*

Waverly is slow to wake, the constant hum of the engine and the roll of the tires against wet asphalt almost pulling her under again. She feels soft and sleepy, and there’s an odd sensation spread out over her body that she doesn’t quite recognize. It takes a long moment for her to remember where she is.

“Hi, baby,” Nicole whispers down to her. She looks wonderful in the dim light of a passing street lamp, her smile warm and sweet like apple pie. The muscles in Waverly’s face feel heavy when she tries to smile back.

“Hey,” she murmurs, and does her best to sit up. “Time’s it?”

With loving fingers, Nicole reaches out to smooth down a strand of hair sticking up from Waverly’s temple. “Around midnight.”

“Oh,” Waverly says. Her voice sounds small and high.

Behind Nicole, the world is passing them by. Dark silhouettes of mountains rise up from behind the skinny trees that sway in the slipstream of the passing cars. The night sky is pressing close to their afforested crests.

“Where are we,” Waverly rasps, running both her hands through her hair in an effort to wake up completely.

Nicole keeps her voice quiet, like she’s still trying not to wake her. “Coquihalla River Park.”

Waverly feels drunk on sleep, drowsy and needy. For a moment, she wishes they were home in bed, and she could pull Nicole in by the well-worn  _ Black Sabbath _ shirt she stole from her brother as a teenager, tangle their legs together under the covers and close her eyes again…

Then she remembers where they’re going, and instead she leans forward, propping her chin up on the shoulder of the passenger seat.

“Hey, Jer,” she says. “You still good driving?”

Jeremy gives her a lopsided smile without looking away from the road. “I’m okay. Oh, hey, I forgot to ask earlier and I didn’t want to wake you, but how do you look for a new radio station on this thing? We drove out of range for the old one around Kingsvale, and it’s been all static-y country music since then, so I turned it off—“

“Here, let me help you,” Waverly cuts him off, reaching through the space between the two front seats to adjust the radio.

When she settles back with a sigh, Nicole is taking a thermos out of the bag by her feet. She offers Waverly some tea, and she accepts it with a grateful kiss to the cheek.

It tastes a little off because Wynonna once left coffee in that thermos for two days, but it’s still good tea. She wraps her hands around the tiny cup, warming her fingertips that are cool from lowered blood pressure.

Nicole pulls Waverly’s legs into her lap and absently rubs her feet, and Waverly watches the shadows and the yellow light of the street lamps chase each other across Nicole’s face until she drifts off again.

*

Waverly closes the car door behind her as quietly as possible, leaving Nicole and Jeremy to nap. Side-stepping a few puddles, she makes her way down the row of parked cars on the rust-colored deck.

There’d been a delay earlier, when they had to take a detour around an accident on the Trans-Canada Highway. Nicole took over for Jeremy and navigated them through the streets of Burnaby until they found their way back to the main road, Rosita following close behind.

Waverly could taste the tension and the tiredness on her tongue when she phoned with Wynonna in the other car, but they made it to Horseshoe Bay Terminus with fourteen minutes to spare. It was a little otherworldly, to smile and talk with the guy in the yellow raincoat who directed them towards the ferry ramp, after hours of feeling like they were the only group of people still awake on the planet. But they made it, and at three in the morning, the boat left the mainland.

The yellow stripes on the ground lead Waverly towards the stern, where a lone figure is already leaned up against the metal gates – she recognizes Wynonna by her hair fluttering in the breeze. A floodlight is illuminating the white, frothy path the ferry is raking into the surface of the sea, and for a moment, Waverly thinks  _ this is really not how I pictured seeing the ocean for the first time in my life _ .

She’d pictured a beach, bright and hot, and beyond it, the sea glittering in shades of blue and green. Nicole in a bathing suit. Running hand in hand, and sand between her toes. Kisses that taste like sunscreen.

Instead, the ocean feels like a sleeping creature that they’ll hope and pray not to wake as they crawl over its back in the dark.

She joins Wynonna at the railing quietly. For a long while, all they do is watch the boat cut through the night. Waverly shivers when the wind picks up and grabs at her ankles, and Wynonna puts an arm around her shoulders. She winds an arm around her middle and clings right back.

When she closes her eyes, everything is filled up with the steady roar of the ferry’s engine. No gun shots. No agitated voices. They’re all safe. They’re free to go, and with every breath, the boat brings them further and further away from Purgatory.

“You know I’m proud of you, right?” She says quietly into her sister’s shoulder, her eyes still closed. “You did it, Wynonna.  _ You did it _ .”

Wynonna’s grip tightens almost painfully, and she turns her head to mumble into Waverly’s hair. “ _ We _ did it, baby girl.”

Waverly keeps her eyes closed.

“Are you scared? To see her again?” she asks, her own heart beating hard against her ribs.

She almost figures that she won’t get an answer, that’s how long Wynonna is silent without so much as acknowledging the question, breathing in and out like she has to focus to keep doing it.

“I’m scared of having to leave her again.”

Waverly’s arm slides away; she looks at her sister. “You don’t have to.”

Wynonna snorts, and it sounds so cruel that Waverly almost recoils. “Hey! You  _ don’t _ .”

“And what do you expect me to do, Waverly? Say ‘hey, thanks for all your help, but I got it from here’? Should I take her take her back and mess her up, because chances are I’ll—”

At this point, Waverly is so tired that it’s like they’ve been on the road for a lifetime, like the last time she woke up in her bed was a million years ago. It takes a lot of willpower not to let the sparks of Wynonna’s helpless outburst catch on her exhaustion like tinder.

“What I expect you to do,” she interrupts her through clenched teeth, “is  _ talk  _ to her, because contrary to what you might believe, communicating with people does help every once in a blue moon.”

Wynonna says nothing. With a heavy sigh, Waverly settles back in next to her, linking their arms.

*

They say that the hour before dawn is the darkest, and while that doesn’t really make any sense, Nicole is definitely feeling it. With the road stretching out before them and the silhouettes of Vancouver Island’s countryside passing them by in the dark, the night seems endless.

Waverly tried her best to keep her entertained for a while, but she fell asleep in the middle of listing facts about Sproat Lake, curled up in the passenger seat, and Jeremy hasn’t woken up since Burnaby.  

For a long while, it takes all of her efforts to concentrate on following Xavier’s taillights and keeping the car steady between the double yellow lines on her left and the single white line on her right. It feels like they might never arrive, just keep driving and driving through the night forever.

The coffee Nicole bought at the Starbucks on Nanaimo quay has long worn off. After they landed on the island, they got some breakfast to-go there, Waverly leaning heavily into Nicole’s side. The closer they’re getting to their destination, the quieter everyone seems to get, tense anticipation settling around all of them like a cloud of dust.

And it’s not like Nicole doesn’t feel it as well. She remembers the feel of the blue blanket beneath the pads of her fingers, in the few moments that it took Waverly to clean up her split lip in the mirror of the passenger’s sun visor. There were soft, angry sounds coming from the bundle in her arms, and Nicole had just enough time to think,  _ yeah, little one, me too _ , before handing her off again.

Her car still smelled like  _ baby _ when she got in it the next day; she remembers that, too.

Waverly randomly burst into tears for weeks afterwards, and exactly a year later, Wynonna and Doc vanished for the day and came back pale and covered in blood, red and black. But in all of eighteen months, they never really talked about her.

What for? What happened that day was nothing one could just discuss and move on from.

It takes Nicole a moment to notice, but when she does, she can’t help the sigh of relief that escapes her. Dawn is breaking.

Rolling down the window a few centimeters to breathe some fresh air, she sits up straighter. When she turns up the volume of the radio a little bit, the hosts are bantering their way through the morning show. She flicks the little wheel until she finds a station that plays music, something upbeat.

Around them, the darkness lifts slowly. The day unfurls like a flower, and the two cars continue to advance down the Pacific Rim Highway, further and further.

*

Waverly has a crick in her neck, and her pulse still doesn’t feel right. She woke up with a start twenty minutes ago, like she’d somehow sensed that they were getting closer. Jeremy was already up and quietly chatting with Nicole, but as soon as they passed the wave-shaped  _ Welcome to Tofino  _ sign, the conversation fizzled out.

At not quite eight-thirty, there’s a line forming outside the bakery they pass. A handful of cars sit in the parking lot of a B&B. There's a pub.

Waverly feels sick with excitement. When Nicole notices her chewing on her bottom lip, she puts a hand on her knee. Briefly, they smile at each other.

When they pass through a residential area, Waverly sees toys and Little Tikes cars strewn along the front yards. Her stomach clenches at the thought of Wynonna looking out the window to see this, too, and she wishes desperately that she could sit next to her right now.

The road turns into a private drive, the asphalt gives way to gravel. Every driveway leading away from the path they're following could be it. The quiet in the car is palpable, makes the air thick and difficult to breathe.

The brake lights of the SUV turn on. The orange turn signal indicates right.

As soon as Nicole stops the car on the steep driveway and the sound of the hand brake being pulled up creaks in Waverly’s ears, she lets the seat belt zip back and hops out.

Car doors clank, and Waverly is by Wynonna’s side in an instant, feeling breathless.

“You ready?” She asks.

Wynonna grins back at her, crooked and wide-eyed. “Nope.”

*

As you get older, the age difference to your siblings seems to shrink until it feels like you’re just the same, equal, like who is older and who is younger only matters in some abstract sense.  _ Who’s really the older one here _ , Waverly has thought a million times when she was taking care of a hungover Wynonna, or telling her not to close the dishwasher with her feet, or translating her snark to something more diplomatic for other people.

But sometimes, all of that just falls away.

The curse was broken on a sunny Wednesday in late September, not twenty-four hours ago. Wynonna aimed, and Peacemaker lit up one last time.

Clootie had seemed so  _ surprised _ when hellfire began to lick at his boots, he’d looked back at her and laughed, almost amazed, before the rage set in.

By the time Wynonna lowered her arm, what she was holding on to was just an old gun, and when the hands fumbling for purchase on the wet asphalt vanished, reality remade itself around the rapidly closing gap to hell.

Waverly felt so much younger than Wynonna then, like she could see each year separating them rest on her sister’s shoulders.

She feels it now, too, as she watches her step forward and place her index finger on the doorbell. They all hear the shrill noise reverberate through the small house.

Waverly briefly wonders what they’ll do if they’re not home, if they’re on vacation, or— but no. Her truck is in the driveway, boxed in by their own cars now.

Steps approach. Wynonna and Doc exchange a glance.

“Hold on a minute, sweetheart, I’ll be right back—”, it sounds muffled through the door.

Wynonna and Doc join hands as Waverly’s heart bottoms out at the familiar sound of this voice, the voice that soothed her nightmares and laughed at her jokes, that chastised and praised and accompanied her.  

Gus opens the door to the seven of them just standing there, close together.

It occurs to Waverly then that she doesn’t even really know all of them; doesn’t know how Jeremy was ready to ride or die with them from the very first day they met, or how impossible, incredible,  _ important _ it is that Rosita is standing here at all. She doesn’t know how they’ve all changed or what they’ve been through. She doesn’t know all the ways that Wynonna Earp is a hero.

But Gus just lets her gaze trail over each of their faces, exhausted, anxious, still a little battered. Finally, it settles on Wynonna. Her whole face softens, and when she speaks, her voice is heavy with tears.

“Would it have killed you to call ahead for once in your life, girl?”

 

*

 

When it’s time for dinner, Nicole finds Waverly by the cove behind the house, where the water is lapping at the stony shore of the island.

Startled, she looks up when Nicole places a blanket over her shoulders, but relaxes immediately. “Hey, you,” she says, in that voice that belongs to only Nicole.

“Hey. You okay out here?”

Waverly looks back out over the ocean. The day started out clear and sunny, but clouds have gathered over the course of the day, and a strong wind is pulling hard at water and trees and hair. For a short while, they just watch as the waves crash against the cliffs a bit further away. A few seagulls are zig-zagging through the air like they’re just having fun.

“I’m super tired,” Waverly finally admits. “I always thought… after the curse would be broken, we’d be ecstatic. Instead I just feel like I could sleep for two weeks and then maybe eat a bagel.”

Nicole laughs. “I think that’s probably normal. After all, this is probably the first time in forever that you’d have the time to sleep for two weeks.”

“Mh, that’s true.” With a sigh, Waverly moves in closer, wrapping her arms and her blanket around Nicole. The blanket smells like wool and pipe tobacco. “I love it here.”

She’s leaning against Nicole’s chest as she speaks, and Nicole can feel her voice vibrate in her sternum. Closing her eyes, she folds her arms around Waverly.

“I do, too,” she says, and only half-means the island. “I can see why this was Gus and Curtis’s plan for their retirement. It must have been hard for Gus to come here without him.”

“Yeah.” They’re all alone in the cove, and in the safety of the wind booming and the water smacking against the stones, Waverly whispers: “Nicole, what are we going to do about Alice?”

Nicole takes a deep breath. “Well. For one thing, I think Doc might have to shave off his moustache, because little Alice does  _ not _ appear to like it.”

Waverly makes a sound somewhere between a groan and a laugh and pinches Nicole’s side a little bit. “Be serious.”

“I don’t know, baby. It’s not really up to us. But…” She tilts Waverly’s chin up and waits until her eyes drift up to hers. “We’ve fought demons of all flavors together. We helped Wynonna break that curse. We all came out alive, and your niece will never have to deal with any of it. The rest will find itself, too.”

The muscles pulling at Waverly’s face to make her frown start to relax. Her eyes soften; Nicole’s heart jumps a little at the sight.

“How do you always do that?” Waverly asks, and sounds almost reproachful.

“Do what?”

“What you just did. You literally said nothing I didn’t already know, there was not one concrete thing in there, and yet here I am, feeling a million times better.”

Nicole grins broadly. “Just my natural charm.” Sobering again, she moves her hands up to cup Waverly’s face between her fingers. “But here’s one concrete thing for you. However you want to be a part of this, I’m game.”

“I don’t know what I want myself. What if Alice stays here with Gus? I really want to be in her life, but I don’t think I want to leave Purgatory for good.”

“Then I’ll just have to get a pilot’s license and fly us out here every month.”

Waverly pinches her again, but her smile is brilliant. Nicole leans down to kiss it, tasting the sea air on Waverly’s lips. When they come apart again, she rests their foreheads together for a moment.

“You know what this entire exhausting drive was completely worth it for?”, Nicole whispers into the space between them.

“Tell me.”

“Seeing Deputy Marshal Xavier Dolls completely dissolve around a toddler. I mean, he just melted. Did you know he threatened to have me arrested for treason once because I allegedly didn’t knock? And I  _ did _ knock. Can’t believe this is the same guy.”

She’s just saying words at this point, but it makes Waverly laugh, ringing like a bell, and the wind carries away the sound. Waverly lets Nicole drag her back to the house by their joined hands, back to where Gus is making stew for all of them, and the picture of a smiling Curtis holding a basket full of tomatoes stands on the mantlepiece.

Through the glass panes of the winter garden, Waverly sees Wynonna sitting on the floor, leaned back against Xavier’s legs. With a soft grin, she lets her daughter hand her a series of wooden trains, one after the other. She places each one in her lap and does her best to listen to what Alice is babbling at her.

Nicole slides back the glass door, and she and Waverly slip inside.

“Hey Doc,” Wynonna calls at that moment, craning her neck to look to where he and Rosita are helping Gus set the table. She holds up a small locomotive. “This green train is called ‘Henry’. It’s funny because I think this is exactly what you’d look like without your moustache.”

Doc ignores the jab. “I thought the name of the green train was ‘Percy’,” he drawls.

“Obviously there’s more than one green train, just like Thomas isn’t the only blue train. Don’t you people know anything?” Jeremy interjects from where he’s building a complicated net of train tracks.

Wynonna snorts. “Yeah, Doc, don’t you know anything?”, she echoes, but immediately turns her attention to Alice when she holds out a small blue tender. “Which one is this? Gordon’s?”

Their jackets and shoes discarded by the door, Nicole settles into the free armchair across from Xavier’s. Waverly wraps herself up in her blanket and climbs into her lap.

There’s time, she decides as she listens to Nicole question Jeremy about his in-depth knowledge of  _ Thomas & Friends _ . She relaxes back into the warmth of Nicole’s body and lets her eyes drift shut. They can figure this out tomorrow.


End file.
